Imperfect Destiny
by futurelyfamous
Summary: Sequel to Murder In Collinsport: Quentin Collins is set on the path of realizing his true role in life. PLEASE REVIEW! CHAPTER 5 NOW UP!
1. A Happy Life

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters from Dark Shadows belong to Dan Curtis Productions Inc. All original characters belong to me.  
  
Chapter 1  
  
"Welcome to the Collins Hotel. If I could just have your name I will let you know what room you're in and have Bowles here show you to your room," the desk clerk said.  
"Cunningham. James Cunningham.. And be sure that my room is exactly seventy-five degrees before I go in," the guest said, in an extremely high and mighty tone of voice.  
"Yes sir," the clerk replied with much disdain. "Here we are. Room 53. Bowles will show you to your room. Thank you for staying at the Collins Hotel, and enjoy your stay. If you need anything, anything at all, simply call down to the desk and I will be sure to accommodate you."  
Mr. Cunningham nodded, and, sticking his nose as far into the air as his neck would allow, he followed the bellhop down the hall and to the elevator. Mr. Saul, the clerk at the desk, knew even before he offered, that within five minutes in his room, Mr. Cunningham would be ringing his phone. He was used to it. The Collins Hotel had become a luxury and distinguished hotel ever since it made the Travel Channels 'Top 5 Most Luxurious Hotels' list, as well as Home and Garden Magazine's 'Most Striking Lawn and Garden Award' for its wonderful gardens and paths throughout upstate New York's forests.  
Quentin Collins, who was behind the visage of the hotel, had built a lavish mansion, which was quite massive at first look, but rather homey at second. The main house was 15,000 square feet, with east and west wings of 10,000 square feet each. The wings of the house were connected to the main house by long, enclosed walkways, approximately 180 yards in length. In walking these long breezeways, one could gaze out into the gardens, or across the vast fields of the estate. There was also a smaller cottage which housed very rich guests who valued privacy in a measly 9,000 square feet. The cottage was about a mile away from the main part of the estate, nestled in the middle of a semi-circle formed by the forest. Through the windows in the back of the cottage, one could observe the wildlife in the woods or in one's private garden, and through the windows in the front, one could watch the sunrise or set across a gigantic lake.  
Quentin, along with wife Kathleen and sister Carolyn, lived on the upper two floors of the main house. The first floor of the main house was used as the lobby for the hotel, while the east and west wings were used to house the guests. Quentin and Kathleen Collins, who had been married for nearly 4 years now, lived on the uppermost floor, in the 5,000 square foot penthouse. Carolyn, who lived on the second floor of the main house, lived also in 5,000 square feet of space, but had converted her area into a less modern, more cozy home. One would never think that behind all the happiness, luxury and wealth portrayed by the hotel, there would be many secrets, much pain and fear, and a never ending realization that one day, it would all end.  
It had been five years ago when the nightmare that haunted Quentin's dreams every night had happened, something that he and his sister Carolyn would never forget. Kathleen knew a little about what had happened, but not the entire story. The media attention to what had happened in the small town of Collinsport, Maine, had been great, but many of the reports did not dare to get within a mile of the town, which once had been bustling and full of life, but was now nothing more than a large black crater. Everyone had heard one story or another of what had truly happened there, but no one knew that what had happened there was entirely Quentin Collins' fault. Only Quentin and Carolyn knew that. And neither acknowledged it. Carolyn didn't want to make her brother feel guilty, and Quentin wished not to think of it. In fact, he had forbade any kind of talk of anything about Collinsport on his property, and anyone who had spoken of it, faced severe consequences.  
A series of murders had taken place in Collinsport, committed by the spirit of Maggie Evan's mother, who every night would emerge from her immortal painting to do the devils work. Quentin Collins had disappeared for quite some time, living in the state of Georgia, only to be driven back home by his ruined reputation there. Invisible to everyone except for Quentin, were a sort of ghost. These ghosts haunted Quentin day and night, and he could not escape them, so he left his home in Georgia only to return to Collinsport in horrible mental health. Quentin soon found out that his heavy drinking habits were not only costing him his liver, but costing other people there lives. The devil had been using Quentin as a vessel, cursing any and all liquor that he drank. Every bottle of liquor that Quentin downed was representative of all the blood in some innocent civilians body. When the bottle was empty, the innocent's body was empty of blood, and they died. The devil then collected the souls. He needed a certain number of souls in order to return to the human realm of earth, to wreak his evil havoc, and make earth his playground.  
With the help of an ally, Andron, Quentin slowed his drinking habits, prompting the devil to call upon his servant, Maggie's mother, to commit a few murders in order to fill up his soul bank. However, Andron's efforts weren't quite good enough, and the devil was able to coax Quentin into murdering John Crosic, the only man that Maggie Evans had loved since her husband, Joe Haskell was killed. In a final confrontation, Maggie's mother was unable to kill John Crosic because a small amount of decency found it's way into her, and made her feel guilty for killing Joe Haskell 5 years earlier. So, the devil sent Maggie's mother to Quentin to persuade him to kill John Crosic. Quentin agreed, believing it would free him from all the damage he had caused, only, Quentin couldn't go through with killing John or Maggie, and left John, nearly dead, on the floor of his home for Maggie to find.  
However, the devil managed to collect enough souls, and Quentin while he was at it, trapping Quentin, and the witch turned angel Angelique, in his hell dimension while he ascended to earth. Angelique, in a last ditch effort to serve her Lord, and make up for the enormous amount of damage she had caused while she was a witch, erected a barrier around the town of Collinsport, successfully holding nearly all of the devil's evil, vaporizing energy, within the boundaries of Collinsport, and saving the planet. Only a few small towns were barely hit through holes split in Angelique's shield. Sadly, Angelique did not make it through the fight, and the entire town of Collinsport was vaporized, everyone in it killed instantly. Only Carolyn and Quentin escaped, somehow, with their lives.  
Quentin and Carolyn did not bother looking for survivors for they knew there were none, given that everything in the town had been turned to nothing more than a pile of ash, and the great house of Collinwood itself had imploded, sinking into a huge crater. Quentin moved to upstate New York and bought 200 acres of land, on which he built the massive mansion. Carolyn never understood why he had built such a large mansion when, at the time, it was just she and Quentin, and possibly their cousin David Collins, who would be staying there. Quentin offered no explanation to his sister. When Quentin and Kathleen met and became engaged, Kathleen suggested the Quentin invest into turning the mansion into an exclusive hotel, and in doing so Quentin would not have to worry about income. He agreed and with Kathleen's decorative assistance, made the mansion the luxurious hotel it became.  
Quentin Collins met Kathleen Pennock through a lost cat. Kathleen had come home from work in the local country store one evening, only to find her cat, Buttons, waiting for her at the door. Buttons ran out as soon as Kathleen opened the door, and wouldn't come back when called. Kathleen searched through the woods for hours, only to run into Quentin who was holding and scratching a purring Buttons, who looked casual as ever in Quentin's arms. A look into each other's eyes was all that was needed before they knew they would have to see each other again.  
Six months after they began dating, Quentin proposed in a lagoon date. They were both sitting in a blue canoe, surrounded by falling leaves and candles floating in the water, which Quentin appropriately arranged. The ring which Quentin gave to Kathleen was a 32 karat blue diamond with a gold band. Kathleen instantly said yes, and four months later they were married. Kathleen designed a very traditional wedding ceremony. Quentin wore a black tuxedo and Kathleen wore a flowing white dress which was strapless, and frilled out between her hip line and her knees. The ceremony was outdoors, and Quentin had a pier built especially for the occasion, which was vast enough to seat 300 people with ample room for the bridesmaids and groomsmen as well as the bride and groom and pastor. The honey moon was in Alaska, and lasted two weeks.  
Now they led the high life, with invitations from the who's who among businessmen and those in Hollywood, flowing into their mailboxes. Quentin knew Kathleen enjoyed it all, whereas he was used to all the glitz and glamour to a certain point, being part of the richest family in the northeast. 


	2. Ian Shepard

Chapter 2  
  
"No, I don't want the shipment until next week, I told you that Bob," Quentin said into the telephone on his desk. "I don't care what he says, I will not accept them until next Wednesday..........Good, thank you........All right, let me know if you need anything else........Take care.........Goodbye," Quentin hung up just as there was a knock at his office door. "Come in."  
"Mr. Collins, there's a man outside that says he needs to see you, that it's urgent. Do you have the time?"  
"Yes, let him in," Quentin said. Usually he didn't let anyone without an appointment in to see him, but as it was he didn't have anything to do, and maybe the meeting would be amusing. A man about 5'11'' with light brown hair and a mustache that did not fit his face entered the doorway, and nodded to the person who had let him in. Mr. Saul closed the door and returned to his desk. "Sit down, please," Quentin offered the chair to the man. "To what do I owe this pleasure mister....."  
"Ian Shepard. And this pleasure you owe to.....well.....you probably don't want to know."  
"This isn't the old bait and switch routine, and if it is I won't bite. Drink?"  
"Yes, please." Quentin poured a two small glasses of red wine and handed one to Ian as he took his own seat on the other side of his desk. "I was sent to tell you something, that's to what you owe this visit," Ian said, taking a sip of his wine. "Good wine. What year?"  
"1865, imported from Italy," Quentin said, obviously proud of the collection of wine he held in the basement. "And just what do you have to tell me, Mr. Shepard?"  
"Ian, please. And what I've been sent to tell you you're not going to want to hear, but I have to tell you anyway. You must return to Collinsport. It is vital to the survival of man kind that you return to Collinsport and put a stop to what Lucifer is attempting there."  
"I haven't the slightest idea what you are talking about," Quentin said, quickly putting the glass of wine down on the desk, as if it were poisoned.  
"It is clear to me from your actions that you indeed do know what I'm speaking of, and the urgency of the issue. As you well know, Collinsport is nothing but a pile of ash at this time, but I have a way to send you back in time to a point when Collinsport was still a bustling town."  
"Listen, Mr. Shepard, Ian, I do not want nor will I ever want to go back to that town, or ever think about it again. Thank you for stopping by, but I have some other urgent business pertaining to my establishment to deal with. It was nice meeting you, and Saul will show you out."  
"Very well," Ian said, putting the glass down, "but you shall soon see that what I have stated here, today, at this meeting, is very true. I suspect you will seek me out sooner rather than later, but do not bother. I shall come to you should you need me. Good day." Ian Shepard left the office, closing the door behind himself.  
  
An hour later, Quentin sat in his penthouse, drinking a glass of water, pondering what Ian Shepard had stated. Quentin had not thought about Collinsport for a while and he wished that he could stop thinking about it now. Kathleen entered the living room through the door way, which Quentin was facing away from, carrying a bright bouquet of flowers. "I had forgotten how wonderful the trips I used to take to the market were," she said, scurrying over to the kitchen and putting her bags on the counter. "Is everything all right, honey?" she asked.  
"What? Oh, yes, everything's fine. I just had.....a.....well, a rather unusual visitor in the office today."  
"Care to elaborate?"  
"Not really. Those flowers are beautiful. No doubt Mrs. Kingsley was happy to see you again?"  
"Polite and cheerful as always. He flowers look better this year than they ever have. She doesn't know what has caused such bright pigments in the petals, but she sure is happy about it. She told me that her business has gone up two hundred percent since last season."  
"That is certainly good to hear," Quentin said, beginning to take the various fruits out of the bags Kathleen had brought home. Cantaloupes, peaches, kiwi, tomatoes, and a small watermelon. As for the vegetables, she had bought a few cucumbers, a head of lettuce, some string beans, and peas. "You've brought quite a variety here," he remarked, folding the bags and placing them in one of the cabinets below the island countertop.  
"Yes. There was so much to choose from, I had trouble figuring out what to buy. At one stand I just bought one of everything," she said, with a smile. Kathleen walked over to the sink and put the flowers in the stainless steel bowl, as she looked under the sink for a vase. When she had found one, she filled it halfway with water, and placed the flowers inside, arranging them neatly and beautifully.  
"It's not like we can't afford it dear," Quentin said, putting the fruits and vegetables in their respective drawers in the refrigerator.  
"I know that, but you know how I like to be frugal with the money we have. Just because we're rich and famous doesn't mean that we can't pinch pennies like the rest of America," Kathleen remarked. After they had both finished putting everything away, they returned to the living room and sat on the leather sofa, looking out through the large glass windows, over the great view of the front garden. 


	3. Seduction

Chapter 3  
  
Carolyn Collins walked along the winding path through the woods of her brother's estate. The path she was on was part of the enormous nature trail and program that Quentin funded, out of his own pocket, for the local schools to field trip to. Many times, Quentin met the school children at the bus, believing that personalizing the experience would make it all the better. The tall pines and oaks that towered over Carolyn were not the least bit intimidating, as they had been on the Collins Estate in Collinsport, but more friendly and welcoming, swaying gently with the passing breeze as a sort of hello.  
She bent down gracefully, and scooped up a handful of wildflowers that she believed would look rather nice in an arrangement with a few roses on her coffee table at home. Suddenly, Carolyn stopped, hearing footsteps behind her. She turned around to see a man, slightly taller than her, with light brown hair, and a mustache, that, oddly enough, did not seem to fit his face. "Oh, hello," she said to him, with a bright smile.  
"I haven't startled you, have I?" he asked.  
"No, not at all." She saw him staring at her, as if she weren't telling the truth. "All right, maybe just a little."  
"I'm sorry about that. I too enjoy long walks on this nature trail. I hope to cover all 15 miles before I check out of the hotel. Quentin Collins seems like a really wonderful man, to have built such a glorious estate."  
"Yes, he is. My brother always did have a knack for building illustrious living areas. But not all of this was his work. His wife and I chipped in a little to," she winked at him.  
"So you're Carolyn Collins then? Mr. Collins' sister?"  
"Oh yes, forgive me. I seem to have lost my manners. May I ask who you are?"  
"Of course. Ian Shepard, hotel guest. Had I known I was going to run into someone as prestigious as yourself, I would have dressed better," he said, looking down at the clothes he was wearing. A long sleeve white shirt, with a pull over blue vest, along with tan khaki's and tennis shoes.  
"That would not have been necessary. I'm dressed casually myself. Are you enjoying your stay here Mr. Shepard?"  
"Ian, please, and yes I certainly am. The meals served in the dining hall are exquisite. I've never tasted anything like the stuffed salmon."  
"I have to agree with you. Betty can do wonders with any type of food. You speak of my brother and his establishment as if you admire it. Do you?"  
Ian Shepard blushed. He did not want to admit that he truly did admire the estate. Maybe it wouldn't have been as much an admission as it would be a manipulation. "I have to say that the estate is wonderful, and that your brother must be very business savvy. I hope to be that way some day."  
Carolyn eyed the man as if she didn't want to believe him, but was forced to, for some reason. "Well, it seems you truly do admire my brother. Perhaps I could take you to meet him? He is always willing to meet with guests. Maybe you could pick up a few tips from him?"  
How to politely decline. Ian knew that what he had stated would have caused Carolyn to suggest meeting her brother. What she didn't know however, is that they had already met, and Quentin did not seem to like him all that well. "Oh, I couldn't impose. I'm sure he has many other things to take care of today, rather than meeting with an everyday guest."  
"Forgive my frankness here Ian, but you certainly could not be an everyday guest. As high as the prices are here, and as exclusive as this estate is, you must be wealthy enough to not have to worry about money ever again."  
"Forgiven, and quite right. I am quite secure financially, however the money I do possess is not of my own creation. I inherited it when my late uncle passed on. You see, I would rather build my own fortune than have it handed to me. I'm not sure if you understand that or not."  
"I do. Our family has been wealthy for years and years, and I often wonder where I would be had I not been born into this family." Carolyn lifted the flowers she had picked up to her nose and sniffed them lightly. "If you are to shy to meet with my brother, could you at least escort me back to the hotel?" Carolyn batted her eye lashes for extra effect. She found this man rather attractive, and even though she was in her mid forties, that didn't mean that she couldn't pursue someone.  
"I would be delighted," Ian said. Carolyn walked up to Ian and linked her arm in his. Soon they were off down the path.  
  
Later that day, Quentin had traveled to town. Crystalville was not a small town by any means. Located within the town limits were more than several stores, with a large variety of items for purchase. One fourth of the town was dedicated to the Farmers Market, to which Kathleen had made a trip earlier that day. Quentin enjoyed traveling to the town, feeling that it kept him in touch with the local people so that he wouldn't be sucked into void in which most semi and full-fledged celebrities lived in.  
Quentin's favorite spot to stop was one of the smaller establishments in the town. A small café called Martinique provided the richest coffee Quentin had ever passed through his lips, as well as scrumptious finger cakes. A small table in the back is where Quentin would escape to, often times diving into a book or reviewing the latest business news. At first the locals were surprised to see the man they only knew from pictures in the café, but soon the grew accustomed to his presence, and he wasn't bothered.  
Quentin didn't know what had singled this café out, and what drew him to it. Perhaps it was the name-Martinique-the island from which Angelique, the witch turned angel who had helped him to escape Lucifer's grasp in Collinsport, originated. Maybe it was the smallness of it that reminded him of the Blue Whale, a small tavern that he used to frequent in Collinsport (However Quentin did not visit the Blue Whale for the same reasons he now visited Martinique). It may have finally been because of the realness it brought to the world. It kept Quentin humble, kept him close to the people. He didn't want to be forgotten.  
The waiter, Phil, brought Quentin's cup off coffee and a few lemon flavored finger cakes. They were Quentin's favorite. Quentin picked up the local paper, The Crystalville Daily, and unfolded it. He scanned the front page and flipped through, scanning each following page for anything interesting before he got to the business section, which he always read cover to cover. However, an article stopped him this time, an article that sent his draw dropping. The headline read 'Ian Shepard Found Dead In Apartment, Police Say It was Homicide'. Ian Shepard? The same Ian Shepard that he had seen this morning in his office? The same Ian Shepard who was now walking through the door of Martinique?  
Quentin looked around from behind the paper and spotted Ian. Against his better judgment, he waved Ian over. Ian seemed unwilling at first, wondering why the man who had sent him away earlier was now waving him over to talk, but Ian figured maybe Quentin had come to his senses about what he was told earlier. Ian strode up to the counter and ordered a large coffee, black, with a hint of cream, and then gallantly walked over to Quentin's table.  
"Mind explaining this to me?" Quentin said, folding the paper in half so that the article was face up to Ian, and throwing it down on the table.  
"Sure," Ian said, as Phil the waiter brought his coffee over. "See, you think that's me they're talking about, don't you?"  
"You know, you're pretty smart for someone who says dumb things," Quentin retorted. "Of course that's what I...." Quentin started, but realizing that he was yelling, he toned it down to a whisper and repeated, "Of course that's what I think!"  
"I thought so. You see...and you're never going to believe this....there's two Ian Shepard's in this town. There's me, Ian Michael Shepard, and then there was him, Ian James Shepard. I believe there is a picture on the next page," Ian said, pushing the paper over to Quentin. Ian lifted the cup to his lips and sipped lightly, being careful not to burn his lips and tongue with the hot liquid.  
Quentin grabbed the paper, a disbelieving look on his face. Unfolding the paper and flipping it over, his jaw dropped once again. It wasn't the Ian Shepard who was sitting in front of him. It truly was someone else. Quentin looked at Shepard with a disapproving eye. "I've lived alongside the supernatural long enough to know that you could've tampered with this picture by merely touching it. And you're hole story about there being two Ian Shepard's in this town is a little to convenient."  
"I thought you might say that. If you don't believe me, go over to that table," Ian pointed across the café to a table on the other side, "and look at that paper. Now I couldn't have tampered with the entire release." Ian sipped the coffee in his cup once again and then replaced it onto the saucer sitting on the table.  
Quentin stood and walked across the café and picked up the paper on the table Ian had pointed to. He flipped through the pages quickly only to find the same picture that was in his own newspaper. Quentin walked back over to his table and sat down quietly, seemingly defeated. "I still don't believe you. You could have tampered with the entire print of papers, or you could have sent your magic across the room to change that paper as well. I'm not quite sure because I am not aware of your entire history yet, but be warned. I will know everything there is to know about you soon enough."  
Ian looked at Quentin disapprovingly. "I'm afraid, dear friend, that living in Collinsport for as long as you did has tampered with your mind. Yes, you suffer from paranoia, thinking that the supernatural exists all around you. Next thing you'll be telling me is that your wife is a witch your sister is a psychic, and you're a werewolf. Or that you're older cousin from some other country is a vampire. If you want my advice, and mind you, you don't have to take it, go home and get some rest. You've been sitting in front of your desk for far to long, and you haven't had a proper break in quite a while."  
"Yes, rest," Quentin said wearily. "I have to get some rest."  
"There's a good lad. Now don't you worry about the bill, I'll take care of it," Ian said, patting Quentin on the back as Quentin stood. "Just go home and straight to bed. Pleasant dreams," Ian smiled at Quentin as he left.  
"Yes, dreams," Quentin repeated, nearing the doorway and then walking through it and out onto the street. 


	4. The Captive

Chapter 4  
  
David Collins had always preferred traveling by train. The train always had the scenic route, whereas traveling by air was rather boring. Sure, in first class they had movies to watch, by taking the train seemed more majestic, more relaxing. He found that he was always able to complete more paperwork on a train ride. Even though it was more expensive to take the train across the country, David enjoyed it more and that was all the mattered to him.  
David had spent the last few years in California, where he had built a respectable home, nothing to marvel over. He moved there to set up a branch of the family shipping business, feeling that he needed to spread his horizons. Not only that, but his advisors had informed him that it would be a very business savvy decision. So, he made the decision. David took a fourth of the family fortune to California with him and spent it on his new home as setting up the business. He had bought a pier that was already built, remodeled it and made it much larger. Then he bought fifteen ships and gave them an overhaul as well. After that, the only thing left to do was advertising and David hired the best in the business.  
As it was now, the business on that side of the country was booming, and David knew it was time to return to visit his family. He wasn't in Collinsport when everything happened; he had just left for California. But he had heard about it. And was appalled by it. But Quentin had told him not to come back; there was nothing left to come back to. This trip would mark the first time he had seen his family in five years.  
He walked up to the ticket window and told the young lady behind the glass that he wanted a round trip to Crystalville, New York. Once she had printed the ticket and told him the total was $150, David paid her with cash and continued. He carried one suitcase and a light-green duffel bag, all the things he would need housed within. A light mist began wafting through the air, and David stepped under the platform roof, to avoid his luggage becoming moist. The train would be arriving any moment, and David prepared himself to board.  
The train pulled up and came to a screeching halt. Many people were waiting in a long line in front of David to board the train. No one would notice if he were captured. The night air was thick and the only light was from the few street lights along the platform. A man came up behind David and wrapped his arm around David's neck, putting a cloth over David's mouth. Soon David fell unconscious and another man emerged from the shadows to help carry David off.  
  
Ian Shepard and Carolyn Collins sat at a small table in the restaurant in the Collins Hotel. The restaurant was called Moonlite, and was run by Carolyn and Kathleen. Many guests dined there every evening, and often there was a short play put on the tiny stage.  
"Is it your intention to woo me, Ian?" Carolyn asked, flashing a smile and sipping some tea.  
"It wasn't when I when I arrived, but I hope you do not mind that I've decided to," Ian said as Carolyn put her cup down.  
"Not at all. But I should warn you that my brother insists on screening every prospective boyfriend of mine. Even in our older age he has a fit if I don't tell him about anyone I'm seeing. He has always been overprotective, and I enjoy humoring him."  
"I'm not worried at all. I am quite sure he will find me satisfactory. After all, you like me, don't you?"  
Carolyn nodded. "Perhaps we will be able further out friendship a bit more before Quentin decides to pry."  
"Friendship? Is that all it is right now?"  
"I'm not one to move too fast for my own good, Ian. I suppose I should have told you that right away." Kathleen walked through the double door entry way. She nodded to Carolyn and Ian and continued over to the hostess podium. "You two love birds better not Quentin catch twinkling in each others' eyes. He'll start another inquisition." Kathleen and Carolyn laughed at the same time. "Yes, I was just explaining to Ian about that." Carolyn took a last sip of tea and looked at Ian. "Now if you'll excuse the two of us, we have work to do," she said, standing up. "All right. I will see you later," Ian said. He stepped over beside her and kissed her on the cheek. As he walked past her and out the door, Carolyn turned and watched him walk away and then turned back around and walked over to Kathleen. "So, it seems a lot has happened since I last saw Mr. Shepard." "Oh don't start. Nothing's happened," Carolyn said, picking up the menu for that night's dinner and looking it over. "You're only lying to yourself. There's something more there, and you know it." "We'll just wait and see what happens," Carolyn retorted, putting the menu down. David opened his weary eyes. His vision was blurred, and his wrist hurt. He became aware that his hands were behind his back, tied to the back of the chair he was sitting in. He guessed he was in a room, as the area was extremely dark, and he could see no more than a few inches in front of his face. A soft glow of light filtered under a wooden door and into the room David was in. The door slowly creaked open, and David attempted to glimpse into the other room, but saw nothing more than an arm chair, as the person entering David's room quickly shut the door. "Good, you're awake," his captor said. The man carried a single candle, which illuminated his face only enough for David to make out the outline. Not enough to describe him with.  
"Where am I?" David asked, still groggy.  
"Where you are is not important right now. Information you possess, however, is. I will ask you a few questions and you shall be compelled to answer them honestly. If I suspect you of lying, there will be dire consequences. Do you understand?"  
David said nothing. This person certainly was quick and to the point. No messing around. David would do all he could to lie to the man, depending on the question. This would be tough. There was no telling what this man would do.  
"Do you know Quentin Collins?" the man asked, putting the candle down on a petite table, and seating himself in a chair that creaked when he sank into it. "I'll repeat the question. Do you know Quentin Collins?"  
"Yes," David uttered so softly that anyone with perfect hearing would have needed the strongest hearing aid to hear it.  
"Good. We're making progress, however small." The man's answer let David know that he was something other than human. No human man could have heard that. "Were you traveling to see Quentin Collins?"  
"Yes."  
"Good. Is someone after Quentin? Does someone wish to kill him?"  
"I....don't know......" David answered.  
"YOU LIE! I WARNED YOU NOT TO LIE!" the man screamed so loud that David attempted to cover his ears but couldn't. The pain of the sound ringing through his ears was unbearable. "Now, tell me again. Is someone after Quentin Collins?"  
"I.....DON'T.........KNOW!!!!!!!!!!" David yelled as loud as he could.  
"All right, next question. Are you going to kill Quentin Collins?"  
"No, I would nev-..." David was cut off.  
"Are you going to kill Quentin Collins?"  
"I told you I would nev-.."  
"Are you going to kill Quentin Collins?!"  
"No."  
"ARE YOU GOING TO KILL QUENTIN COLLINS?!?!?"  
"No, I won't."  
"ARE YOU GOING TO KILL QUENTIN COLLINS?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"  
"Yes." 


	5. Coming to America

Chapter 5  
  
Hampshire, England, 1655 "I heard you have acquired land in the colonies."  
  
"Yes, I bought it from a younger gentlemen who was arrested for murder and needed bail funds. Pour me another."  
  
The bartender pours another drink for both of them and says, "How much land is it? A large amount from what I've heard."  
  
"Yes, but I would not mind having more. I'd say it is about 400 acres. I plan to move my family there and prosper in the small town."  
  
"Where is the land located?"  
  
"The colony is called Maine. Said to be a cold place, but with the right house we will live comfortably."  
  
"And you plan to move your whole family there?"  
  
"Yes, if they wish to travel with me, I shall." He finished his small glass of whiskey and motioned for another.  
  
"Isaac, have you consulted Constance and the three children about whether they wish to travel to the new world with you?" The tender poured him another.  
  
"Constance will travel to the colonies with me whether she likes it or not. As for the children, they are of legal age and I cannot force Brutus to do anything he does not wish to. I am counting on Brutus to move with us for he shall be part of the shipping business I am planning to start. As for Olivia and Margaret, they will come as well. You know as well as I do that a man may do what he wishes but a woman must obey her father or her husbands orders."  
  
"And you are not at all worried that it may make them unhappy to live in a new village where not a soul knows of them?"  
  
"No, I am not, and you would be wise to stop planting doubts in my mind. I have made my decision and I shall not change my mind now."  
  
"Your choices are your own to make and I wish not to place doubts in your mind but I simply wanted to be sure that you had taken all opinions into account before making your final decision. You will be greatly missed in these parts."  
  
"As many have told me. I will be keeping the business running however, and I shall be making periodic trips in order to be sure that everything is going as well as it possibly can."  
  
"But will that not displace you from your family for an extended period of time?"  
  
"Yes, it will, but I have no choice have I? I have left my most trusted man in charge of things, but I must check over everything myself to put my mind at ease. I shall not make the trip but once every few years."  
  
"And that is why you want your son to be instrumental in the business you plan to start in the colonies?"  
  
"Yes. I trust him implicitly. I shall leave him in full charge of the business and of our family whilst I am away. I have no doubt that he shall perform his duties to the best of his abilities."  
  
"When will you be leaving?"  
  
"In about a week we shall set sail for the new world. I have already asked Brutus to come along, and he has agreed, however I do not think he is very pleased about it. In time he will come to like his living arrangements I am sure. I suppose I shall be off. I must set my final affairs in order before the event takes place."  
  
"Yes, please do. I enjoyed our converse. Good evening."  
  
"Good evening."  
  
British Colony of Maine, 1656  
  
"Constance! Constance come down here!" Isaac Collins called from the drawing room of his newly built mansion. It was rather large, but not as large as his descendant, Jeremiah Collins, would build over 100 years later on the hill just up the property from where this house stood. During that time, they would call the house Isaac is now living in, The Old House.  
  
Constance Collins, Isaac's wife, descended the stairs after looking over the railing of the landing to locate her husband. She was a beautiful woman. Reddish-brown hair and sea green eyes, an odd combination, but an entrancing one nonetheless. She walked into the drawing room, where her rough, rugged and balding husband stood waiting for her, with a angered look upon his face.  
  
"Yes, Isaac? You called for me?" she said, coming to a halt in front of him.  
  
"What is it I am hearing about you telling Olivia and Margaret about their returning to England?" he asked, pouring himself a glass of amontillado and taking a seat in a chair in front of the fireplace.  
  
"I haven't the slightest notion. What is it you are hearing, and from whom are you hearing it?" Constance was one of the very few lucky women who were allowed to speak freely in front of their husbands, nearly as an equal, which was a rarity.  
  
"I shall tell you what I hear. I have heard that you have told both Olivia and Margaret they may return to the mother country if they wish, and I had to hear this from the servants. Do my ears deceive me?"  
  
"They do not."  
  
"I thought not. And what right have you to advise our daughters upon what they may or may not do, without first seeking my counsel!?"  
  
"You have answered your own question. They are our daughters, and I have as much right as you have to advise them of their choices. They are of legal age, and you are not to keep them in this house against their wishes."  
  
"You make a mistake Constance. While I permit you to speak freely in my presence, that does not mean you may further that into any other right you feel you should have. You should feel lucky of the rights you have now!"  
  
"Should I? And what rights would those be?"  
  
"Do not insult my intelligence, or yours for that matter! You know very well what rights you do and do not possess, and you shall be aware of them always, or I shall remind you!" His tone was strong and encompassing, letting Constance know that she was out of place. However, that would not quiet her frankness.  
  
"Is there a point to this conversation, or shall I return to my duties."  
  
"You will not speak out of turn, dear woman, or I will have no choice but to punish you. Now, as I was saying, you are not to advise Margaret or Olivia on what they have choices to. I have told the three of you that Margaret and Olivia may not leave this house until after they have been married to a man whom first asks for my approval of the marriage. I have not been known to change my mind before, and I will not start now!"  
  
"You know as well as I do Isaac that the girls have the strong-will that I prize. They will not do away with that simply to obey your orders. If you do not wish them to leave, you will have to tell them that yourself for I stand by what I said to them earlier." Isaac rose from his chair and slapped Constance across the face.  
  
"And there is the punishment I spoke of to you. Speak one word of the situation further to either Margaret or Olivia, and I shall take more drastic measures."  
  
Constance held the left side of her face with a hand and said, "And you better watch your tongue or I shall help them escape this prison!"  
  
Isaac slapped the other side of her face, causing her head to fly to the right and he grabbed her around her wrists. "You shall be the one to hold your tongue woman! I will not tolerate being spoke to like a simple servant in my own house!" Isaac pulled Constance through a pair of light red double doors to the left of the fireplace and down the hall behind them. He opened a heavy wood door and threw her into the room, slamming the door as soon as she was inside, and locked her in. "And you shall stay within these walls so long as I choose to keep you here!" Isaac stormed back down the hall and into the drawing room, where he picked up his amontillado off of an oak table, and walked over to the huge glass window letting sunlight through into the drawing room.  
  
Back in the room she was locked in, Constance banged on the door and screamed for Isaac to let her out, but the door was thick and the hallway was long, so her cries went unheard. After a while, she stopped and went and sat on the window seat. She wouldn't dare to sit on the bed. It looked dingy, and she promised herself that when she got out of the room she would work on improving the servants quarters, because they had to be worse than this room. They had lived there for a year, and the room she was in was a ground floor guest room, but no one had used it since a business associate of Isaac's had stayed with them for a few days, and that was just after they had moved in.  
  
Constance stood up and paced the room, thinking about what she had said. She knew that she wasn't wrong, Olivia and Margaret should be able to make their own choices, but neither Isaac nor Brutus would admit that fact. She did not want to disobey her husband, but she did not want to let her daughters down either. The decision was to tough to make.  
  
Out in the drawing room, Brutus has entered and poured himself a glass of amontillado. He sat down in a chair by the fire and looked over to his father who was still staring out the window. "Father, is anything the matter?"  
  
"No, nothing. Your mother has once again overstepped her boundaries."  
  
"I see. And has that angered you?"  
  
"It did at the time, but I am less angered now than I was when it happened. Have their been any developments?"  
  
"Actually yes. The business is getting off the ground. I found quite a wealthy man from Jamestown, Virginia, who wished to invest, and he did so. And, the townspeople have named the town Collinsport, after us. Is that not humbling?"  
  
"Yes, very humbling. When did the event take place?"  
  
"It was made official this afternoon. I signed the paper showing that the family in good faith accepted and appreciated the honor."  
  
"Very good. And what of the investor? What is his name?"  
  
"An odd one. I had tried to figure his lineage but my mind was distracted by other things. William Crosic is his name. I happened upon him when I traveled to Baltimore, Maryland. I ran across him in a tavern, and told him about our business. For some reason he showed an enthusiastic interest, and we have been corresponding since that time."  
  
"Will he be arriving in town anytime soon?" Isaac took a sip of his drink, and Brutus did the same.  
  
"Not to my knowledge."  
  
"I see. Well, should you receive a letter from him confirming any plans to visit, you will let me know so that I may have your mother make the appropriate accommodations."  
  
"Yes, I will. But Father, how do you know Mr. Crosic may be planning to visit Collinsport?"  
  
"Is it not common for any investor to wish to investigate the facilities of the company in which they are investing?"  
  
"I suppose not."  
  
"Brutus, you still have much to learn; be sure not to forget that. It is easy to lose money during these days, do not forget that."  
  
"I shan't. Is there anything more you wish me to complete?"  
  
"Nothing that comes to mind. Do you wish to go?"  
  
"Actually, yes. I have arrangements with a friend in town."  
  
"And what type of arrangements are these?"  
  
"A lady friend and I will be having dinner in one of the more prominent restaurants."  
  
"If you must. Be off then young lad, and do report to me before you retire in case I have further converse."  
  
"Certainly Father. Good evening."  
  
"Good evening." Isaac said, turning and watching as Brutus put his glass down and exited the room.  
  
Twenty minutes later Brutus came downstairs, after bathing and putting on new clothes to go on his date. He bid goodbye to his father and left the house. Riding in his carriage to town, he looked out the window and thought he saw a figure in the woods. He told the driver to stop, and once the driver did so, Brutus stepped out of the carriage and looked around. The forest was dimly lit by the last light that was seeping over the horizon from the sunset. Everything cast a long shadow across the ground, and after seeing nothing, Brutus concluded that he must have seen a tree sway with the wind, and was on his way. As soon as the carriage started movement again, a man with sandy colored hair and deep, piercing eyes, stepped out from behind a tree.  
  
He watched Brutus' carriage further itself down the drive and did not emerge completely from the shadows of the forest until he was sure the carriage would not change its course. Once convinced, he stepped out onto the road leading from the house to the main road, and walked up it, towards the mansion. As he walked he took in his surroundings, being sure that he was aware of every bend in the drive, every tree, every blade of grass, every insect. He would know this land better than his own.  
  
Reaching the house, he approached slowly and cautiously, being sure that no one outside would see him, and that no one inside would see him either. He stepped lightly as he walked up to the huge window and peered in, watching those inside. Two women. One with blonde hair down to her shoulders, and a bow tied in the back of her head. She had big brown eyes that seemed as if they would pop out of her head at anytime. Her hands were folded in her lap, and as she was speaking, every minute or so, she would wring them together as if she were nervous. She was 19 years of age. And the other, a beautiful woman with brown hair pulled tightly in a bun on the back of her head and hazel colored eyes looked extremely calm and dignified, obviously the more wise of the two, who was 22 years old. The blonde was Olivia Collins, and the other Margaret Collins.  
  
Olivia had been known ever since she was a young girl to be nervous and to act on a whim, whereas Margaret had always been calm, in any situation, and always thought things through. At this time they were talking about what their father had told their mother in their earlier conversation. Olivia and Margaret had listened from the landing at the peak of the staircase in the hall, Margaret's idea. He listened through the window as the two women talked.  
  
"Olivia stop being so worrisome! It is quite annoying and I will not stand it one second longer!"  
  
"But what if we are caught? Punished? I do not like the thought of father being angry with us."  
  
"If you want this as bad as I do, you will be willing to do anything in order to get it. Father can only be mad at us for so long. His anger will pass with time."  
  
"Still, I cannot release the feeling of being caught. I cannot even imagine what will happen to us if we were to be found out."  
  
"Then do not try to imagine it. Dismiss these thoughts from your mind, and be open to the plan. If you are not, we will surely be caught."  
  
"The best I can do is try. Ask no more of me than that."  
  
"You know I do not. Will you leave with me then?"  
  
Olivia took a long pause and a heavy sigh before answering "Yes."  
  
"Good. I've had Elizabeth pack our things. They shall be waiting for us in a carriage just outside of the gate."  
  
"When.....do we leave?"  
  
"At sundown. It will only be an hour or so. Are you sure you're ready? That you've dismissed all doubts from your head?"  
  
"Yes. I am ready."  
  
"Excellent. Meet me here when the time comes. I shall go to my room to be sure everything is prepared." Margaret turned to exit but stopped suddenly. She grabbed her throat, and started coughing. Her body began convulsing, and she tore at the top of her gold dress to free herself from its grasp. When she had loosened it just a bit, she still coughed, her throat still constricted. She fell to the floor, on her hands and knees, and a few seconds later she collapsed completely.  
  
Olivia ran over to Margaret and bent down beside her. "Margaret! Margaret wake up! Margaret please!" Olivia shook her. "Elizabeth! Elizabeth come quickly!" she called for their maid. 


End file.
